#dryder

TW: SPIDER PHOTOS UNDER READ MORE

I really want to draw these all myself sometime, but if anyone wants to go at it- just Tag Me! I wanna see em!

I'm a bit of a bug nerd, and someone brought up Skeleton Driders. So I put way more thought than I needed to on who would be what spider! Here are my picks!

The woods aren't safe to travel alone.

But daredevil fools brave it solo, gambling their lives for the thrill to outwit the dryders.

The corpses don't start until the center of the forest, where the light is thinnest. Bodies hang along the path, most tightly wrapped in silken shrouds. Their alabaster figures warn they've been stripped of all their belongings.

And then there's the webs.

Soft, silken, endless webs.

It always comes upon the fools slowly. They never realize how thickly the webbing around their legs is. They always swings their weapons overhead, expecting the assault from above.

It never is.

Sometimes the webs tighten slowly. The victim thrashes, panic preceding thought. One arm pins painfully to their side while the other is trapped outstretched for their weapon. The webs close in slowly while the victim pleads, challenging the dryders to show themselves and deliver the riddle.

The dryders never do.

Not in a way the victims can see, at least. These deaths are entertaining and the glimmer of false hope keeps the torture scraping along for ages.

The quick deaths aren't so theatrical.

The fools barely have a moment to react before it's all over. A snap like a bowstring and their arms are bound above their heads. They attempt to thrash but their legs are cocooned securely. The rest of their body is covered up in seconds, doubled over so they hang like a mass of white against the black boughs of the trees.

Then the crystallization begins.

First, the leather over-armor stiffens. Then the clothing beneath grows hard and unyielding. The victim's erratic thrusts change from attempted escape to a desperate effort to keep warm. In time, their movements slow and they sink into a lucid slumber.

Until the feasting.

The web is cut open easily, like the thick skin of a boiled potato. The victim's clothing breaks and cracks, peeled back to expose the helpless, glistening body underneath.

But of course, the poor things are far too cold to eat in that state. The founder of the feast must warm them for the other dryders.

The process is relatively simple. The founder will begin to probe and arouse the victim's genitalia. Simple stroking or fingering generally does the trick, but some dryders enjoy using the pincers around their jaws to add extra sensual torture to the hapless body they bend to their will.

Whatever the method, the first jolt of consciousness always sends warmth flooding through their core.

Naturally, the victim bucks and writhes, but they can't escape the ministrations of the founder. In fact, their restrained thrashing only plays into the founder's cruel strokes. The founder edges them to the point of madness, their fraught bodies flushed and sweating.

Now primed for need, the founder enters the victim. Not for sexual gratification, but to implant eggs before the body is rendered too useless a husk. Gender means nothing when the young will feed off the bodies regardless.

But the victim doesn't know their intended purpose. All they know is the sickening pleasure that twists their insides, begging for release, screaming for more.

Most founders perform the act quickly, as the other dryders are hungry and wanting.

But sometimes, if the others are late, the founder takes more time, savoring the helpless consternation of the victim...

Oh ok, so there's the first Dryder I've seen so far. Alright.

Haha yes, I am a funny bard.

There is no fucking way he believed this.

There is no fucking way!

BROOO!?!? NO COMMON YOU CANT BELIEVE ME LIKE THAT.

DUUUUUUUUUDE!!?!?1

I couldn't stop laughing this shit was so fucking funny. I actually convinced them to go into the forest and die. Holy shit lmaooo.